Year X771 —
Location: Rosemary Village
Age: Ren (6) | Erza (6)
---
The first thing Ren noticed the next morning—
—was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind that Rosemary Village was known for. Not the soft, lived-in quiet of early mornings where the world felt like it was stretching awake.
This silence watched.
Ren opened his eyes slowly, breath already measured.
In.
Out.
The ceiling hadn't changed. The light filtering through the window was the same pale gold. Erza still slept a few steps away, her brow faintly furrowed even in rest.
> So why does it feel like everything moved?
He sat up.
The floor creaked.
Erza's eyes snapped open instantly.
"…Morning already?" she muttered.
"…Yeah."
She studied his face. "…You're thinking again."
Ren gave a small smile. "…I never stopped."
She sighed and pushed herself upright. "…Figures."
They washed up quietly and stepped outside together.
That was when Ren felt it clearly.
Eyes.
Not hostile.
Not welcoming either.
Just—aware.
Mrs. Halwen paused mid-knead when she saw them, smile delayed by a heartbeat before returning. A pair of older boys stopped talking as Ren passed, whispers trailing behind him like dust.
"…That's him."
"…The kid from yesterday."
Ren kept walking.
> Don't shrink. Don't harden. Just… be.
Erza noticed too. Her shoulders tensed, chin lifting in defiance.
"…They're staring," she muttered.
"…Let them," Ren replied quietly. "…We didn't do anything wrong."
"…That's not why they're staring."
He didn't argue.
---
Work continued.
Life insisted on pretending nothing had changed.
Ren helped repair a cracked fence near the fields, fingers aching as he hammered nails into old wood. Mr. Fenly hovered nearby, clearly wanting to help but flinching every time Ren moved too fast.
"…You should rest," the man said for the third time.
Ren smiled politely. "…I'm okay."
> He's afraid I'll break. Or afraid I won't.
Erza hauled water buckets with more force than necessary, her movements sharp, irritated. When Ren caught her eye, she scowled.
"…They're treating us like glass," she snapped.
"…Or fire," Ren said.
"…I don't want either."
"I know."
During lunch, children sat farther away than usual. A few glanced over with curiosity, others with open awe.
One small girl—barely four—approached timidly and tugged on Ren's sleeve.
"…Mister," she whispered. "…Are you strong."
Ren crouched down to her level.
"…Not yet," he said honestly. "…I just try to help."
She smiled brightly and ran off.
Erza watched the exchange, expression unreadable.
"…You're too calm," she said later.
Ren rinsed his hands at the well. "…If I'm not, I'll start acting like what they think I am."
"…And what's that."
He looked at his reflection in the water—distorted, rippling.
"…Something separate."
That made her quiet.
---
Training that evening felt different.
Not heavier.
Sharper.
They practiced behind the storage shed, out of sight but not out of mind. Ren guided their breathing, adjusting pace when Erza's frustration spiked.
In.
Out.
"…They think you're dangerous now," she said suddenly.
"…Maybe I am."
"…I don't like that answer."
Ren opened his eyes. "…Danger isn't bad. Uncontrolled danger is."
She frowned. "…You're talking like an adult again."
"…I'm talking like someone who made a choice."
That shut her up.
They practiced footwork next—slow steps, balance, positioning. Ren corrected her stance gently, hands light, respectful.
"…You hesitated yesterday," she said.
He paused. "…You noticed."
"…I always do."
"…I hesitated because I didn't want this," he admitted. "…The looks. The fear."
"…And?"
"…I still don't."
She studied him, then nodded once. "…Good."
"…Why."
"…Because if you start liking it," she said flatly, "…I'll stop following you."
That hit harder than expected.
Ren swallowed. "…I won't."
"…You'd better not."
---
That night, voices carried farther than usual.
Ren lay awake, listening to murmurs from nearby houses. Words like gifted, dangerous, should tell the guild floated through the dark.
> A guild. Fairy Tail. Not yet.
> [Great Sage: External observation likelihood increased. Probability of information spread beyond village: 42%.]
Ren closed his eyes.
> Too soon.
He shifted slightly.
Erza was awake too.
"…Ren."
"…Yeah."
"…If people come," she said quietly, "…adults who aren't kind—"
"…I know."
"…What do we do."
He thought carefully.
> This time, don't dodge.
"…We don't run immediately," he said. "…And we don't fight unless we have to."
"…That's still not an answer."
He turned toward her.
"…We watch," he said. "…And we choose together."
Her breath eased just a little.
"…Promise."
"…Always."
---
The following days confirmed it.
A merchant asked too many questions.
A traveler lingered too long near the well.
Someone left a small charm near Ren's sleeping spot—protective magic, old and nervous.
Attention didn't crash down.
It seeped in.
Ren adapted.
He laughed more. Helped openly. Made mistakes on purpose sometimes—dropped a tool, stumbled during chores—just enough to remind people he was still a child.
It worked.
A little.
But not completely.
> Once eyes begin to follow— they don't forget.
One evening, as the sun dipped low, Ren and Erza sat on the fence overlooking the road.
"…Do you regret it," she asked suddenly.
"…Yesterday."
Ren watched the horizon.
"…No," he said. "…But I regret that it had to happen here."
"…I don't," she replied. "…This is our home. If something breaks here—better us than someone weaker."
He smiled softly.
"…You sound like a knight."
She flushed. "…Shut up."
They sat in companionable silence.
> This is how it starts. Not with destiny— but with being seen.
Ren felt the weight settle—not crushing, but present.
He accepted it.
Tomorrow, they would keep living.
And somewhere beyond Rosemary Village—
—the world had begun to notice.
---
End of Chapter 26 👁️🌾